


Irreverent

by blahrandomblah



Category: Divergent - Fandom, Sterek - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Anal, Divergent AU, Fighting Together, First Times, Fluffy, Human AU, Kissing, Oral, topping and bottoming, underage 16 with 18
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahrandomblah/pseuds/blahrandomblah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Society is split among five factions. One of the city's mantras is "faction before blood". This is all well and good until friendships decide to continue beyond faction bounds. One faction leader in particular is displeased by both this trend in blurring faction lines. Throw in a displeasure for the divergent members of society, and mayhem is bound to ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The premise is based on (and the story is set in) the world established in the Divergent trilogy. If you are unfamiliar with the trilogy, I would suggest looking it up beforehand. I have included some minor backstory of the Divergent world to assist those who are unfamiliar, but it's not a lot.

                Tomorrow is a big day for me and all the other kids my age. In some factions, that means tonight is spent in reflection or discussion. In Dauntless, it means we act out any number of adrenaline-inducing acts that cross the line of stupidity.

                My friends and I stand at the far end of the pit—the main social area of our faction headquarters. A few months ago, Dauntless members began climbing this part of the cavern as an alternate route to the building above. Tonight, we plan on being the youngest people to achieve this feat. And by “we”, I mean my gung-ho friends who are forcing me to do this with them.

                “Ready?” Scott asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I shrug in response. He leans in close enough that our other friends can’t hear. “I’ll stay close, so I can catch you if you fall,” he whispers, nudging me with his elbow.

                “Puh-lease,” I say. “I don’t care if Greenberg is an adult. If he can climb this thing, I can do it.”

                That wins me a smile from my best friend. Without another word, I reach as high above me as I can with my right arm. I find a spot I can grab easily. As I pull myself up, I see the tattoo of my name scratched into the inside of my arm: Stiles. It trembles as I exert enough strength to pull me up. I never really wanted the damned thing anyway, but the Dauntless get tattoos; it’s part of the faction life. Faction before blood. Faction before life. Faction. Faction. Faction.

                It’s possible to be an individual in the city, as long as that individuality fits within the faction system. We have five different factions: Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Dauntless, and Erudite. People are born into their parents’ faction. When we turn sixteen, we undergo an aptitude test that informs us which faction best suits us. Then, we have to choose a faction of our own. Some choose to stay with the faction they were born to, others choose to transfer. Once someone joins a faction, they have to leave their former faction behind—including their family and friends.

                The abnegation personify selflessness and expect it of all their members. Therefore, they are our governing faction, because the selfless would not seek power. People who choose amity have a strong proclivity for peace and become our farmers and some of our musicians. Honesty is the key trait of the Candor, who aptly provide our justice system. My faction is known for its bravery; we provide all of the security for the city and maintain patrols around the wall that encloses it. The final faction, Erudite, respects intelligence above all else. They are our doctors, scientists, and teachers. Sorting people based on their highest aptitude is supposed to make our society a better place. That’s the selling line, anyways.

                All of this comes to a head tomorrow, when my friends and I have to choose a faction of our own. We had our aptitude test simulations earlier today. Apparently, there was a computer error during my test because the administrator had to manually enter my Dauntless result. He told me it was nothing to worry about, but it was something I shouldn’t talk about with anyone. We’re not supposed to discuss the results anyway, so it doesn’t make a difference to me. I wonder how many of my friends’ tests yielded non-Dauntless results. I would hate to lose them.

                “You scared, Stilinski?” Allison’s voice derails my thoughts.

                “Huh?” I ask.

                “Well, Boyd, Scott, and I are already halfway up here,” she calls down. “You’ve barely climbed two feet!”

                “I’m trying to calculate the best root possible,” I explain.

                “Does it look like we’re in frickin’ Erudite, nerd?” she retorts. “Climb!”

                I roll my eyes, but begin ascending the wall. Sixteen years of growing up Dauntless have given me strong enough muscles to accomplish this, but it’s still strenuous. I’m nearly at Allison’s foot, and find a spot I can only grab with my fingertips. I begin to pull myself up, but my right hand slips off. I slam myself flat against the wall to prevent myself from falling. I taste the metallic tinge of blood as it trickles down from my nose onto my lips.

                “Smooth move, nerd,” Allison laughs.

                I drag the tips of my right hand against my jeans before gripping the spot above me once again. This time, managing to pull myself up without issue. Ten minutes later, we’re all at the top of the wall.

                “Well, that was fun,” I smart off. “So, glad we did that.”

                Allison punches me in the arm. “Hey, no one got hurt. Well, almost.”

                “I’d have been fine if someone’s foot hadn’t been in my way,” I argue.

                “Get a room already,” Scott interjects.

                I jump on Scott’s back. “Dude, there is no way I’m going into any room alone with your girlfriend. There’s brave, and there’s stupid.”

                “Are you calling me stupid?” Scott asks.

                “I’m not calling you brave,” I tease. Scott flips me off his back and pulls me into a headlock. I tap his arm twice. “Ok, not stupid,” I concede, laughing.

                “I’m the bravest of all,” Scott claims.

                “That’s quite a claim,” a voice snarls behind us.

                We all scramble into a line and stare at our toes instead of looking at the source of the voice. Everyone in Dauntless knows that voice. It belongs to our most ruthless leader, Peter Hale. Peter is the living embodiment of power. He’s strong, fearless, and—admittedly—attractive. It all combines into something…scary, for lack of a better word.

                “We were just messing around,” Allison volunteers.

                “Really?” Peter asks. “Some in Dauntless would take that as quite the challenge, Mr. McCall.”

                “I didn’t mean to challenge anyone, sir,” Scott claims.

                Peter looks us all over. “For pre-initiates that just managed to climb a wall many adults don’t dare attempt, you’ve all seemed to lose your backbones now that I’m here. I suggest you find them before beginning initiation tomorrow.” He walks off without another word.

                “He’s so…” Scott starts.

                “Hot,” Allison finishes.

                “Ew,” Scott recoils. “He’s like 40, Allison.”

                “Yeah, and he has a great ass,” she says.

                The two bicker all of the way back to the bottom of the pit, because of course we didn’t climb the wall to go anywhere. We climbed it just to prove we could do it. How stupid is that? At the bottom, Scott convinces us all to get a tattoo of a mountain before going home for the night. That way, we’ll all remember this night together, even if we choose different factions tomorrow.

***

I rub the inside of my left forearm to soothe the pain of my new tattoo. One could easily confuse the three peaks for a heart monitor, if not for the snow caps etched near their tips. My name and the Dauntless symbol above my heart were enough tattoos for me, but I couldn’t deny Scott this last-ditch chance at bonding. No matter what happens tomorrow, I’ll always remember my best friends.

                “Fresh ink, I see,” my dad calls out, shaking his head. “You know, just because you’re Dauntless, it doesn’t mean you have to be a living canvas.”

                I shrug. “It was Scott’s idea,” I explain.

                “When you choose a new faction tomorrow, those tattoos are going to…stick out even more,” he says.

                My heart skips a beat. “What makes you think I’ll choose a different faction?” I ask. I haven’t said anything to him about my intentions one way or another.

                “Stiles,” he sighs. “Son, I’ve known you your entire life. I was born and raised here; I know a Dauntless when I see one. I’m not saying you aren’t brave, because you’re one of the bravest people I know in so many ways. You coped with your mother’s…accident better than most would have. You run around and do all these Dauntless stunts that give you no sense of satisfaction. They scare you, yet you do them anyway. And tomorrow, you’re going to choose to leave it all behind to find a place you belong. That’s bravery if ever I’ve seen it.”

                He wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes tightly. He kisses the side of my head, and I let myself slouch. “It’s just not me, Dad. I love you. I love my friends, but…I hate this life. None of it makes any sense. And then, the computer screwed up my simulation on top of that. So, the record is always going to show I should be Dauntless even when I know I shouldn’t be. But…I don’t want to leave you, either. It’s a lot of conflicting thoughts.”

                “W-what did you say about the computer?” my dad asks.

                “There was a glitch. The administrator said it was no big deal,” I repeat.

                Dad drops his head into his hands. “Stiles, there’s no way you can stay in Dauntless.”

                “Why’s that?” I ask, taken aback.

                “The administrator—and I’m sure he just didn’t want to scare you—lied. Glitches are rare, and almost certainly an indication that the test didn’t work on you,” he explains.

                I stare at him dumbfounded. “How can the test not work?”

                My dad drops his voice to a whisper. I have to lean in to hear him. “It’s called Divergence, Stiles. It means that you have equal aptitude for at least two factions. And, if you’re Divergent, you can’t stay in Dauntless, son. They…they…”

                “THEY WHAT, DAD?!” I shout.

                “Keep your voice down,” my father urges. He peers to his left and right, and leans in close. “The Dauntless leaders fear those who are Divergent—I’m not sure why,” he says before I can interrupt. “Since I became head of security, I know of at least 7 Divergent faction members that have disappeared or had…accidents.”

                “Are you saying our leaders are killing the Divergent members of our faction?” I ask. Why would a faction kill of its own members. Dauntless initiation does enough harm as it is.

                Shaking his head, my dad answers, “I don’t have any hard evidence, but, Stiles, I can’t risk you going through initiation here. You have to choose a different faction. You have to save yourself.”

                “But I’ll have to leave you and Scott…and the others,” I say. “I hate this faction, but I love you all more.”

                “If you really love us, you’ll save yourself. How do you think Scott would feel if you had an unexplainable accident?” he asks.

                I shrug, but it’s a false movement. Of course, Scott would be crushed. I would be crushed if it happened to him, and he would feel the same for me. I was already on the path of choosing a different faction, but it’s a completely different ball game being told I can’t even think about staying in Dauntless. What the hell does it matter if I have equal aptitude for more than one faction? Doesn’t that make me well-rounded? If I listen to Dad, tomorrow’s the last day I get to see him. Ever. Hell, we’re not even supposed to discuss any of this with anyone, especially our parents. If I don’t get away soon, I’m going to go into full-blown panic.

                “Look, I-I’m…I’ve got to get some sleep,” I say. “I…” I turn and head toward my room.

                “Stiles, you can’t tell anyone about this,” my father says before I leave the living room. “Not even Scott.”

                “Ok,” I agree.

                “I love you,” he says, his voice strained.

                Tears start to fall down my cheeks as I respond, “Yeah. I love you, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles chooses his faction and meets his first initiation instructor.

The reading of the faction manifestos takes a long time. The founders of our factions were certainly not concerned with brevity as each decided what it would stand for. At least Amity is holding the ceremony this year. Their speeches are always pleasant, and their representative has a steady, smooth voice. I remember him from school a few years ago: Danny Mahealani. He was born Amity and chose to remain there two years ago during his own Choosing Ceremony. It doesn’t surprise me that the Amity have chosen him as a spokesperson; everybody likes Danny—plus, he has an incredible smile.

Today, Danny’s smile and smooth baritone aren’t enough to calm my nerves. As he continues reading the manifestos, I can’t help but reflect on my own Divergent inability to conform to any one set of principles and what that means for my choice today. The only thing I know for sure is that I cannot choose Dauntless. My father says it is far too risky and, as head of security, he would know. So that leaves me with four choices.

Dauntless transfers do not transition well into Amity; we’re opposite at the core ideals of our factions. The Dauntless are the war faction and the Amity are peace. It’s not that I have particularly violent impulses, but I’m also too quick to speak my mind. That particular quality suggests Candor would be a good choice for me and, if I’m honest, Candor is the faction I’ve always assumed I would transfer to. However, the Candor value truth, and I cannot tell the truth about being Divergent. Abnegation isn’t a likely choice either. As the governing faction, they cannot be seen harboring Divergents. Plus, as much as I look out for my friends and my father, I am far from selfless. Erudite is an option. I always had great grades in school, but I don’t want to spend my life as a scientist.

My thoughts are interrupted as I hear Danny switch into a new section of the hosting speech.

“Today, each of you stands on a precipice. Your entire future lies before you unmolded, unshaped, and unhindered. When you next leave this great structure, you will no longer be the dependents of this city. Instead, you will be a full member of this city with all of the rights and responsibilities therein. You will help shape it. You will care for and look after its dependents. You will have the freedom to be who you are. You…”

Danny continues, but my own circumstances resurface to the forefront of my mind. I will not be free to be who I am. That is one luxury I will be denied; however, it is a luxury I want. Well, there it is. I just ruled out Abnegation. Three choices left.

“In the end, the choice is yours,” Danny informs us. “You have been raised in one faction your entire life. The aptitude test has told you which faction your body chemistry says is best for you. Only you know the truth. Only you know yourself. Life, blood, and faction: these are the forces that form our future. It is now time to choose.”

Even though Danny never mentioned the words—which is strange now that I think about it—the audience murmurs, “Faction before blood”. I have only attended the Choosing Ceremony a few times with my father, but the speeches always end with the city line. I mean, faction before blood is supposed to be the city mantra, right? I never bought into it, but maybe I am not the only one.

This year, the names are called in actual alphabetic order; next year, they will be in reverse order. There are about thirty choosers for each faction this year, so a few names are read off before I hear a name I care about: Allison Argent. A few moments later, I hear her blood sizzle over the Dauntless coals. My faction erupts. Seven names later: Vernon Boyd. Hell, Boyd is one of the strongest people I know. He never runs away from the reckless acts we get into. He’s Dauntless for sure. Although, I don’t hear any sizzling blood. Instead, I see Danny pat his back and call out, “Amity”. The Amity clap cautiously, and the Dauntless are one as the intake a sharp breath.

The first transfer always stings a bit, especially when it is someone as promising as Boyd. Needless to say, the Dauntless sit abnormally quiet until our next chooser, Matt Ginch, chooses Dauntless. The next name I care about isn’t from my own faction. Her name is Lydia Martin, and is the smartest girl in school. She is an annoyingly-honest Candor who has no problem telling you how smart she is. So, it comes as no surprise to me as she becomes the first Candor transfer by choosing Erudite.

The next name knots my stomach: Scott McCall. He squeezes my shoulder and says, “Love you, bro,” before walking up to the center of the stage. My leg begins bouncing nervously. I try to imagine what Scott will choose. It takes about half a second for me to remember how reassuring, caring, and selfless Scott is. So, I settle on Abnegation as his blood drips onto the stones, verifying my knowledge of my best friend. The Dauntless gasp once more. I realize I will never share a faction with my best friend again. That realization destroys a piece of my soul. I rub the mountain tattoo on my forearm.

We wait in silence once again until a Candor girl steps up and drops her blood onto the sizzling coals of Dauntless. She’s our first transfer this year, and her last name was Reyes. Erika Reyes. We’ve gone almost the entire ceremony without a transfer. We cheer hard for her, well, the other Dauntless do anyway. A few names later, and it is finally time. “Stiles Stilinski,” Danny calls.

I drop my head and exhale slowly before standing up. As head of security, my father must stand near the rear of the stage, so I do not get to give him a final hug. Instead, I smile at him as I walk the few steps up to the stage. He grins widely and nods once. I stand before the five bowls that represent our factions: coals for Dauntless, stones for Abnegation, glass for Candor, earth for Amity, and water for Erudite. I already know the stones and coals are out, and I shake a little from laughter as I realize I could never have picked the earth of Amity. So, it is either glass or water, similar in so many ways.

I grab the small knife in front of me and press it into the skin near the bottom of my palm. I hide the wince of pain, because Dauntless has taught me not to show weakness. But, hell, it hurts. Erudite makes more sense than trying to live a lie in the land of truths, but the life seems so boring. Whether it is the Dauntless tendency toward risk or some deeper connection, I extend my arm over the bowl and squeeze my hand. My blood falls swiftly onto the Candor glass and I hope they are as unaware of the Divergent as I was.

The Candor applaud fervently as I walk toward their ranks. I notice one of them—who seems vaguely familiar—sigh deeply and roll his eyes as I join them. I would be more offended if the motion weren’t so arousing. I mean, good lord, who chiseled him out of stone? He’s like living art. But, rude. Definitely rude. I must have gone to school with him at some point; he doesn’t look much older than me.

I sit there with my faction until the last of the choosers, Kira Yukimura, chooses to remain in Abnegation. As my faction, now Candor, stands up to head toward the Merciless Mart, I search for my father. I cannot find, though, and find solace in the idea that, as head of security, I’m bound to at least see him from time to time throughout the city. I also notice how small the Dauntless initiate pool is. Including Allison, only six of our cohort chose to remain in Dauntless. Erika and a transfer from Erudite I didn’t recognize made eight. Eight total initiates out of 150 choosers. To be honest, this has been the trend over the last few years. Fewer and fewer people are choosing Dauntless.

***

                Candor headquarters are quite different from my old home in Dauntless. I mean, we literally spent most of our time in a man-carved pit at the base of what is essentially an underground mountain. Candor headquarters is a newer building near one of the largest trading zones in the city. The walls are mostly white, and floor is the same, only checkered with black tiles in places. On each wall is a picture of the Candor scales. The pictures have black backgrounds on one half with part of a man and scales in white, and white backgrounds on the other half with the other part of a man and scales in black.

                Me and my fellow initiates—I estimate around 50—are herded into a large room, clearly meant to seat a majority of the Candor faction. There must be 1500 seats in the room. We’re led to the center stage where there are collapsible chairs set up for the initiates. In the front row of auditorium seats are, what appear to be, the Candor officials. They seem important anyway. The woman in the center stands and speaks directly to us, her back to most of the Candor population.

                “Welcome. My name is Angela Cline and I am one of the spokespeople for Candor. I am also our representative to the other factions,” she adds. “However, here in Candor, we have no official government leaders. We believe laws, customs, and societies can flourish remarkably well when all members of society speak truthfully and without restraint. It allows us to see all sides of all issues. Through faction-wide debate, we can reach decisions that improve us as a whole.

                Unlike the initiates in Dauntless and Amity, initiates are not separated during Candor initiation. We believe separation only leads to the suspicion and therefore secrets. Candor-born and transfers alike will be processed together.”

                “Why does Amity need to separate out its initiates? Seems unnecessary to me,” I blurt out before thinking. I bow my head. “I’m sorry,” I add.

                “What is your name?” Angela asks.

                “Stiles,” I answer.

                “That sounds an awful lot like a nickname to me,” she responds.

                “Well, you’d have to talk to my dad about that, I guess,” I answer. I look away again.

                She smiles. “Stiles, there’s no shame in speaking the truth. I know you are a bit unaccustomed to it as a Dauntless, but probably not as much as our Abnegation or Amity transfers. Honest questions are always welcomed here. Let’s ask on of our former Amity members to explain why they segregate Amity-born and transfer initiates.” She scans over us. “You,” she says indicating a former Amity boy.

                “We’re not supposed to talk about initiation to other factions,” he says.

                “You are Candor now, not Amity. You have been asked to reveal the truth as a Candor would,” Angela instructs.

                The boy nods slowly. “In Amity, we—no, they—trust that the Amity-born will be peaceful and cooperative as they have been raised that way. The Amity-born don’t go through initiation; they just continue their daily jobs. The transfers must be assessed and, often, trained to control their more combative tendencies, especially the Dauntless transfers.”

                “Thank you for your honesty,” Angela says. The chamber full of Candor repeats the phrase. “We also know the Candor-born will not lie; however, we believe it is important to be upfront, open, and honest at all times. So, we make sure our initiates share this experience together.

                I will ask that we hold any more questions until the end, please. You will not see me much through initiation. Instead, representatives from our different sectors of life will lead your through your commencement. Candor is an amalgamation of different honesties. We are the judicial body of this city. We have judges, lawyers, and clerks that assist in this process. We are also the main merchants. We are the debaters and philosophers. We use our eyes, ears, brains, and instincts to see and set the natural truths in this world. And many of you will one day as well.

                Those who cannot complete initiation will become factionless. How do you fail initiation? You lie. You deceive. You close yourselves off to us. I urge you to be honest. I urge you to be forthright. And I urge you to open yourselves up to everything that Candor has to offer. Do this, and you will succeed. I will see you again two weeks from today during the truth serum ceremony. Until then, happy confessing!”

                I’m going to be factionless. That’s all there is to it. It is impossible for me to not lie, deceive, or close myself off. It’s the nature of being Divergent in a factioned world.

***

                My first lie detector test is the next morning. A young candor boy, probably 11, picks me up from the room I share with a boy named Phillip and leads me passed the large meeting chamber. As we turn down a hallway on the left, I see the same picture of scales on the wall. Although, I could swear the scales are tipped a little heavier to the left than they were in the main hallway. All of this black and white is getting to me—in Dauntless, we wore black, but we had tons of other colors all over the place.

                The boy leads me to a black door and says, “Just remember to tell the truth. The machine won’t let you lie anyway!”

                I smile and nod at him. “Thanks,” I say. “Do I just go in?” He nods and walks off.

                I open the door and freeze. The Candor administering my test is the same pseudo-familiar guy from the Choosing Ceremony. He’s sitting on the far side of a small table. If possible, he’s even more attractive close up. The stubble all over his chin would leave a great burn on my face.

                “All those tattoos and hair colors in Dauntless and, yet, you’re staring at me,” he says.

                I shake myself out of it. “What? No. Well, yes. I’m just…” well, I can’t lie. How does he make me feel? “Nervous,” I finish.

                He looks me over, probably assessing whether or not I’m telling the truth. “That’s an understandable emotion, but you’ll need to learn to ignore it in Candor. Nerves only lead us to want to lie. Truth isn’t something we should fear, Stiles.”

                “How do you know my name?” I ask.

                He stares at me, confused. He shakes his head quickly and taps the clipboard in front of him. “You’re name is right here.”

                “Oh,” I say.

                “Why don’t you sit down?” he asks, but I don’t think it’s really a question.

                I sit in a chair across from him. I notice that the table top is a screen of some sort. It was blank a moment ago, but now that I’m sitting here, I can see that it is spiking along with my heartbeat. Seeing my heartbeat being measured makes me more nervous and the rhythm speeds up.

                “You really are nervous, aren’t you?” he asks, smiling.

                “Yeah, some of us have had to hide who we are our whole lives, man. I mean, I never wanted to do any of the shit we were supposed to do in Dauntless, but that’s what a Dauntless does. So, I did it. Lying is what I’m used to,” I defend.

                He chuckles. “Well, you certainly don’t mind speaking your mind,” he says. I blush a little. “That’s a good thing, Stiles. The Candor like to run their mouths. Now, we just have to make sure you’re telling the truth while you’re at it.”

                He stands up and grabs a small vial from a cabinet behind him. He places a syringe within the vial and withdraws a small amount of yellow liquid. As he approaches me, I push back into my seat, leaning away from the needle. “What’s that?” I ask.

                He stops moving. “It’s a lighter version of the truth serum you’ll be under on your last night of initiation. Being under it is a strange, foreign feeling to people outside of Candor. The full serum makes it impossible for you to lie; this version makes you want to tell the truth.” I relax and he plunges the needle into my arm, injecting the serum.

                “Are you ready to begin?” he asks.

                I answer “no” so quickly that it startles me.

                “Good,” he chuckles again. I really like it when he laughs. I smile. “The serum also takes away your nerves a bit.”

                “I’ll say,” I respond. “I don’t want you to ask me a lot of questions, though. Just to be clear.”

                “Well, it’s my job,” he says. “Ok, first off: what is your father’s name?”

                “I don’t know,” I answer.

                He squints at me and then down at the tabletop screen. There are no spikes. “How do you not know your own father’s name?”

                I shrug. “He doesn’t have a whole lot of friends. Mom always just called him Dad around me, and everyone else calls him Sheriff. He’s the head of security, you know.”

                “Yes, I do know who the head of security of our city is,” he retorts.

                I laugh. “You’re a lot funnier than I thought you would be.”

                “Do you know who I am?” he asks.

                I smile. “I do. You’re the,” _cute guy who rolled his eyes at me during the Choosing Ceremony_ , I almost say. Another voice in my head says, _WOAH! Don’t say that. Why not? He doesn’t need to know you’re attracted to him, dumbass. I really want to be honest with him. You can be honest without telling him that._ So, I finish, “you’re the guy who rolled his eyes at me during the Choosing Ceremony.”

                “That’s all?” he asks, checking a small little spike on the screen.

                “No, but I can’t put a finger on it. Maybe school or something,” I suggest.

                “Ok,” he says. “Next question, then. Why did you choose Candor?”

                _Right to the easy questions._ “Candor was the only…reasonable choice,” I say. I see the spike on the screen. _Shit._ “That’s to say, it was the most reasonable choice for me.” No spike.

                “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

                “It means that I,” _you have to be somewhat honest_ , “I couldn’t stay in Dauntless and the other factions just…weren’t right.” Another, small spike.

                “Why are you lying, Stiles?” he asks.

                “I’m…I can’t…” I say. _No no no. Think. Come up with something. Come on!_

                His green eyes are piercing as they search mine. His face drops. He turns off the screen and reaches across the table. He grabs my shoulder and directs me so that I’m staring right at him. “I’m the youngest lawyer ever in Candor which means I’m really smart and very good at reading between the lines. I’m going to make a statement to you right now, and then I need you to refrain from confirming or denying what I say. Can you do that?” he asks. I nod. _What’s he doing?_ “I think that your aptitude test didn’t work in the way it was supposed to and you left Dauntless, understandably so, out of fear. You then chose the hardest faction to hide in.”

                I have no idea how he figured it out from my lack of answers, but he’s answered it perfectly. I stare back intently, without flinching trying to make sure he understands he is right. If he knows about the Divergent and he’s not turning me in, he can’t believe we’re dangerous. He can’t believe I should be killed. _Maybe it even means he is, too._ But, I won’t let myself think that way. If I have any hope of making it through initiation, I have to place my trust in someone. It may as well be this man.

                “The Candor are not aware that aptitude tests are able to be inconclusive. As far as I know, only Dauntless and Erudite are aware of this particular outcome. Even with that being the case, you are in great danger here, Stiles. More so than you can possibly imagine. You should have chosen Amity.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has a plan to protect Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I started a new job and have been busy adjusting to my new schedule. Thanks for hanging in there!!! :)

Stiles paces the inquisition room, waiting for the familiar questioner—who is nearly 15 minutes late. _Maybe he doesn’t want to deal with my divergence_ , I let myself think. It seems a bit strange, though. How would a Candor know about the Divergent if the faction as a whole doesn’t? _He must be Divergent, too._ It really is the only answer.

The door creaks softly as it opens. “Sorry, Stiles,” the now-familiar voice apologizes. “I didn’t plan on being late.”

“Is everything ok?” I ask.

My interrogator sighs. “No, Stiles; everything is far from alright.” He pushes a few buttons on the table, and all of the lights, except for an emergency light, go out. He leans close—a move which makes my heart stutter—and whispers, “Look, Divergence isn’t something to take lightly. There are people who will kill you for it.”

“That’s what my dad said,” I explain. “I just don’t understand why. Why would they want to kill me?” I plead.

“You’re unpredictable, Stiles. In our society, people fit into certain categories. They can be expected to behave in certain ways. The Divergent aren’t bound by one aptitude or another, so they’re seen as erratic and volatile.” He throws his hands in the air to counter my objection. “I’m not saying it’s fair or correct; I’m just saying that’s how it is.”

“How do you know so much about the Divergent anyway?” I ask. “I thought the Candor don’t know about it.”

“You really don’t remember who I am, do you?” he asks. I shake my head. He sighs and presses his palms against his face. “I’m Derek…”

“Hale,” I finish. “As in Peter Hale’s nephew. You were supposed to be the prize initiate a few years ago, but transferred to Candor. Peter was pissed!”

The Dauntless have a simple system of leadership. We, or I guess “they” now, have five leaders who make all of our policy decisions. In all practicality, the fittest and strongest among us become our leaders. There’s no such thing as an heir to the throne or anything, but that’s what Derek was supposed to be. His mother had been a Dauntless leader. When she died in an unexpected fire, her brother Peter became a leader. Everyone even joked about the Hale Dynasty for a few years when they discovered how strong Derek was.

“Well, I couldn’t stay there,” Derek says. “Peter wanted me to become another Hale leader for Dauntless. I even got to attend some leadership meetings, which is how I found out about the Divergent. Once I pieced a little bit of evidence together, I discovered what they were doing. I couldn’t be a part of it. If I had stayed in Dauntless, there’s no way I could have been a leader and not participate in the hunting of Divergent.

Once I left, I discovered even more evidence against them. I also found others, former Dauntless now mostly in Amity and Abnegation, who knew about the Divergent problem. We have a small network of people in the city who help the Divergent escape into Amity to protect them. I think we can do that for you if you want. It’s an incredibly tricky process, but should be easy for you since it’s only two days since the Choosing Ceremony.”

I don’t want to be Amity. I want to be Candor. I like the Candor; I think there is a great beauty in truth. There’s something so raw about it, something instinctive. For me, it’s something to strive toward.

“I don’t want to be Amity. I’m Candor,” I say.

“That’s a stupid decision, Stiles,” Derek retorts. That stung a little.

“How can you be Candor and hide all this from people? I thought the Candor didn’t lie,” I assert.

Derek shakes his head. “You don’t understand Candor life, yet. Being Candor doesn’t mean you express every single thought, feeling, and idea you possess; it means, when you choose to speak, you speak honestly. No one’s ever asked me if I’m a member of an underground railroad transporting ‘Divergent rebels’ to Amity, so I’ve never had to lie about it.”

“That sounds like cheating to me,” I blurt out.

Derek laughs. “You certainly don’t have a problem saying whatever is on your mind.”

“That’s not true. I lied, or stretched the truth at least, quite a bit during our lie detector test yesterday,” I defend.

“And if you want to stay in Candor, you’re going to have to get a lot better at it,” Derek asserts. He interlocks his fingers. “I figured, being your father’s son and all, you wouldn’t be interested in being moved to Amity. There’s a way we can get around that and keep you safe here, but it’s going to take a lot of work on your part.”

“I’m not afraid of work. What would I have to do?” I ask.

“You’re going to have to be more honest than you ever wanted to be in your life,” Derek explains. “However, you’re also going to have to keep two incredibly important secrets. One, you can never mention your Divergence to anyone again, including me.” Derek pulls a small vial of dark blue liquid. “Two, you can never tell anyone about this conversation. After I take this, I won’t even remember it.”

My head shakes in confusion. “What do you mean you won’t remember it?”

He holds the vial up. “This is a serum similar to the Candor truth serum, except it affects memory. This one has been altered very carefully. I’ll remember who you are and that we had a session yesterday, but I won’t remember any of our conversation from the last two days.”

“Why would you give up your memory for me?” I ask.

Derek shrugs. “I don’t see it as a big ordeal, Stiles. If I give up a few memories, you get to have an extra layer of protection against being killed. I can live with that.”

“You don’t have to do that for me,” I say. “You don’t even know me.”

“Stiles, we were in the same faction for 13 years. Just because you don’t remember me, it doesn’t mean I don’t remember you. You’re worth saving.”

I do remember Derek, though. Now that there’s a name to his face. He was always the cool kid that everyone wanted to be like when they grew up a little more. I never thought he took notice of me, though. And, hell, he’s so much more attractive than he used to be. How can I be blamed for not recognizing him right away?

“What are you going to think happened these last couple days?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It’ll just seem hazy to me. I’ve done 5 tests on each day. The answers will just seem to have run together. It’ll be fine, but you have to be honest from here on out. When people are under the truth serum, they don’t hesitate with their answers, Stiles. You have to say the first thing that comes to your mind, or at least have a quick answer for hesitating. Do you understand me?” I nod. “Shorter answers will be easier as well. Don’t try to explain everything; I know that’ll be hard for you.”

“You do remember me well,” I say.

“I could never forget you, Stiles,” he says. For a moment, we just stare at each other until he adds, “Well, hopefully I can forget a little piece of you.” He unstops the vial and downs the liquid.

***

“Good morning, Stiles,” Derek greets as I walk into the room.

“G’morning, Derek,” I grumble.

His face lights up. “You finally remembered who I am!” he notices.

 _Oh, shit._ _He doesn’t remember anything, idiot!_ “Yeah. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

“It’s ok; I look quite a bit different now,” Derek admits.

“I’ll say,” I agree. He smiles.

“You ready for another go?” Derek asks. I shrug. Derek injects me with a slightly stronger version of the truth serum. “Ok, we’ve already covered all of the identification questions. Now, it’s going to start getting more personal. We’ll start of easy and get to the good stuff as we go on, ok?”

I chuckle. “You’re the boss,” I say.

“Let’s start with some of your favorites, ok?” he asks. I nod. “Ok. What’s your favorite candy?”

“Chocolate covered anything,” I answer without thinking.

“Favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Favorite food?”

“Chocolate cake.”

“Favorite subject in school?”

“No idea,” I answer. Derek checks the screen for any spikes. “Seriously,” I add. “I like them all the same.”

“You’re strange,” he says.

“And, yet, you’re so perfectly normal,” I retort.

“Glad to see the serum is working,” Derek says.

“I wouldn’t need it to match wits with anyone, Derek. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m more than just fairly intelligent,” I say. _Wow, that was cocky. Simmer down, self._

“Arrogant, but honest,” Derek acknowledges. “What’s your favorite hair color on a girl?”

I see the spikes on the screen that show my heartbeat has gone haywire. I take a deep breath. They smooth out. “Brunettes, I guess.” A small spike.

“You guess?” Derek asks.

I shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it before.” No spikes.

“Ok,” he says, brows furrowed. “Let’s move on. I’m going to ask you about some of your best and worst moments.” I nod. “Tell me your best memory.”

“There was this day before my mom died. I guess it was about eight years ago now. Mom, Dad, my best friend Scott, his mom, and I were all having this picnic on the roof of the Hub. I didn’t particularly care for the heights, but we were up there for hours. My mom kept running to the edge of the building and stopping right before she should fall off. It scared me at first, but Scott laughed so hard that I couldn’t help but join him. It’s the last happy day I remember with my mom,” I admit.

“What’s the worst?” Derek asks.

“The worst what?”

“The worst day you remember with your mom?” he clarifies.

I shake my head. “I don’t like talking about it,” I say quickly. _You can’t lie; Derek will get suspicious again._ “But, it was about two weeks after the picnic. I’m sure you remember, but Dauntless hospitals aren’t the most comforting place in the world. Dad was out checking on a problem with one of the gates in the wall. I was alone with mom, and that was the day she…died.” I can feel the tear making its way down my cheek. I try to hush a sniffle. “Can we just...can…I need to stop for a minute,” I say.

Derek reaches across the table and grips my arm, his thumb pressed against the tattoo of my name. The contact sends a chill through me. My stomach does a small flip, and I notice a few spikes on the screen. “Thank you for your honesty, Stiles,” Derek says. He checks his watch. “I’m going to get a drink real quick; I’ll be back in three minutes and we’ll begin again.”

I use the break for a small breakdown. I try not to think of the bad days too often—negativity breeds negativity. So, when I do think about them, they hurt even more because they are still sensitive. My body starts trembling and I urge myself to take long, deep breaths. After a minute or so, I start to relax a little. Just in time, too, as I hear Derek’s footsteps outside of the door.

“Let’s get back to it,” he says as he sits down. “Tell me about your worst punishment.”

I laugh. “Scott’s mom grounded us from seeing each other for a whole week.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “That must have been utter torture.”

“I’ve never hated anything so much,” I insist. “Ever.”

“You two sound co-dependent,” Derek asserts. “What was your worst date like?”

“I’ve never had a bad date.”

“You’re lucky. What was your best date like?”

“I’ve also never had a good date.”

“Stiles, are you saying you’ve never had a date?” Derek asks.

My face burns red. “Yes,” I admit.

“I find that hard to believe,” he says.

“Well, we can’t all be ridiculously attractive like you,” I respond. _Oh, shit. Damn serum._

To my surprise, Derek’s face flushes red. “I’m not ridiculously attractive Stiles,” he contends.

“You sure you’re not Abnegation?” I ask. “Because you’re avoiding a lot of mirrors if you think that.”

“You have an inflated sense of my attractiveness, Stiles,” Derek says.

Before I can even try to stop myself, the serum takes over. “Your arms are the size of my face. I can see your abs through your shirt—I didn’t even know they made shirts that form-fitting. Don’t even get me started on your facial hair or your piercing, green eyes. I mean, seriously, I could stare at them for hours. The only reason I haven’t tried to kiss you is that, even if you were gay, you would be so far out of my league that we may as well be in different facti…”

Derek’s lips are a lot softer than I thought they would be. His hands cradle my head as he pulls me deeper into the kiss. I let out a soft moan. As quickly as it started, it ends. Derek drops his head into his hands.

“I can’t do this…it’s not that I don’t want…I just…I…” Derek falters in an extremely non-Candor fashion. He just shakes his head and rushes out of the door. I press my middle finger to the groove of my upper lip and stare at the closing door, dumbfounded.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles faces the Candor initiation's final test: the Truth Ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extended delay on this chapter update. I've been working out of state for a few weeks and just haven't been in the mood to write. I should be back to updating on Saturdays, now. Thanks for hanging in there!

For the next week and a half, I’m forced to sit through annoyingly banal rounds of questions by a new interrogator named Sheila. I’ve never seen her in my life, so it was easy to be honest about seemingly commonplace facts about myself. I even admitted to being gay during one of the interviews.

The strangest part is that I never even saw Derek during that time.  We never crossed paths in the hallways, our meal times never coincided, and Derek was absent from the two large gatherings in the large meeting chamber. I know exactly what’s happening: Derek is actively avoiding me. For some reason, this really bothers me. I mean, if he doesn’t like me, I can get over that. He doesn’t have to be a world-class jerk about it. I can handle rejection. Well, I can _eventually_ handle rejection.

Two weeks after the Choosing Ceremony, I wake up in my room. Phillip is still snoring a few feet away from me, but I pay very little attention to the noise. I’m much more concerned about the coming hours. Today is the day I answer questions under the full weight of the Candor truth serum. The entire faction will be in attendance, watching and listening to every answer I give. It is of the utmost importance that I answer the questions without hesitation, while ensuring that I don’t give any answers that reveal my Divergence.

The anxiety becomes too much for me to lie still. I quickly change clothes and head down to the cafeteria for breakfast. Navigating the halls is much easier now. I discovered that the Candor symbols hanging in each hallway are not exact copies of each other. The symbols vary from hallway to hallway. The scales become more unbalanced further away from the elevators, and the shades of black lighten toward the higher floors and darken toward the lower levels.

The mess is fairly empty, save for a few initiates in the far corner, and one surly lawyer a few feet away. My feet carry me toward him before I even decide to talk to him. His scowl deepens as I approach and he begins to get up.

“Sit down,” I order as my anger builds. I don’t know why it works, but Derek sits. “You don’t get to kiss me and then avoid me for rest of my time in Candor.”

“That’s not what-” Derek starts, but I interrupt him.

“It is exactly what you’ve been doing, and I don’t appreciate it or your low opinion of me,” I say.

“My opinion of you isn’t-”

“You think my ego is so fragile that I can’t handle being rejected by the supremely-handsome Derek Hale. Well, you might be all of that and a box of chocolates—which, as you’ll recall, are my favorite—but I can assure you, I’ll get over it,” I assert. Wow, that felt good.

I turn to walk away, but Derek calls out, “Hey! You don’t get to yell at me and not give me a chance to explain.”

I can’t help smiling a little. I settle my face and turn to look at him, arms crossed. “You’ve had plenty of time to explain yourself over the last week.” He stares at me, pointedly. “Fine,” I say. I sit across from Derek. “Explain.”

“Stiles, it’s not that I…it’s just that…you’re so…I,” Derek sighs and drops his head into his hands. “Interrogators aren’t allowed to be involved with initiates. We both could have been in a lot of trouble and I just didn’t want to put you through that. You’ve got enough to worry about already.”

“What do you mean I have a lot to worry about?” I ask.

Derek looks around before leaning close and whispering, “You know what I’m talking about Stiles. What I found out in our first session.”

My heart sinks. “You remember? I thought-”

He shakes his head. “It didn’t work on me. Well, it did for about a day and a half, and then everything just sort of came back.”

_See, this is just more proof that he has to be Divergent, too_. “So, what happens if you’re asked about it?”

Derek shrugs. “It’s not going to happen.”

“Wow! That is so reassuring,” I snap. I run my hands through my hair. “Sorry.”

“It’s going to be fine. Just answer as well as you have for Sheila, and you’ll be fine,” Derek encourages.

I sit there fidgeting for a second before something Derek said clicks. “So, you said interrogators aren’t allowed to be ‘involved’ with initiates. We kissed one time; that doesn’t really sound like the definition of ‘involved’ to me.”

Derek chuckles. “True.”

I smirk and raise my eyebrow slightly. “So, does that mean you’re interest in being…involved?” I ask.

Derek stands up and walks to my side of the table. “It means,” he leans down, lips touching my ear as he whispers, “You better pass this initiation test tonight, because I refuse to go on a date with someone who’s factionless.” He winks and walks away before I can even think about responding.

***

I feel a new level of respect for every Candor and former Candor in our city. The Truth Ceremony, the Candor initiation, is a burial ground for secrets. This is the only one I’ve attended, and in the course of the first hour, I’ve already heard one boy admit to being assaulted by an older female neighbor, another admit to cutting his own wrists on several occasions, and a girl detail her addiction to alcohol. After each of these confessions, the entire chamber echoes the phrase, “Thank you for your honesty.”

While Candor respects honesty above all else, the secrets divulged in this ceremony stay within our faction—or so Angela explained in her speech at the beginning of the ceremony.  It’s an extremely powerful moment, experiencing a person’s greatest secrets and then agreeing to help bear them. It takes great courage from all parties.

Before I know it, my name is being called. I take a deep breath before approaching the chair in the middle of the stage. The seat is still warm from where the girl before me sat. A young Candor man pushes a needle into my neck and I feel the familiar, heavy sensation of the truth serum spread through my body. Even under its weight, I notice Derek sitting in the front row.

“Please state your name for the record,” the interrogator instructs.

“Stiles Stilinski and, yes, I know you think that’s a nickname, but it’s not,” I say.

I hear a few chuckles in the audience. _Short answers, remember. Derek said short answers._ The interrogator continues. “Which faction were you a member of before joining Candor?”

“Dauntless,” I answer.

“Why did you choose Candor?”

I’ve practiced these answers. “I respect honesty,” I answer without hesitation.

“Have you ever told a lie?”

“Yes,” I say.

“What was it?”

My face contorts in confusion. “Could you clarify the question?”

“I will,” the interrogator agrees. “What lies have you told?”

_Why didn’t anyone ask me this question in my sessions? It seems like an important one. Shit, you have to answer quickly._ “There are way too many to list. I had to lie a lot in Dauntless.”

“But, you said you respect honesty,” the interrogator pushes.

“I do,” I answer. “It was something I could never have in Dauntless, though. The Dauntless are brave, adrenaline junkies and I’m not. In order to fit in and make it to the Choosing Ceremony, I had to put on a front. I hated the lies. So, I chose a faction I wouldn’t have to lie in.”

“What has surprised you most about our faction so far?”

“That Derek is here,” I answer without thinking. _No involvement._

“Derek Hale?” the interrogator asks.

“Yes,” I answer.

“In what way are you familiar with Mr. Hale?”

“He was in Dauntless before Candor; I remember him,” I claim.

“Is there anything else?”

I feel my cheeks redden. _There’s no way to avoid answering now that you’re blushing._ “Well, it’s embarrassing, but I’ve always had a crush on him.” I refuse to look at Derek.

“A crush? So, you’re-”

“Attracted to him, yes,” I answer.

“Have you ever acted on this impulse?”

I have never been more thankful for my Divergence than when I can answer, “No.”

The questions last for another five minutes or so until my last question. “What is your greatest secret?”

I can feel the serum driving me to answer about my Divergence. I push the urge away. “I don’t have a deep, dark secret that I haven’t already admitted to tonight.”

The Candor fully believe in the power of their truth serum, so the interrogator doesn’t question my answer. “Then, instead, I’ll ask what your deepest regret is.”

“I regret that I had to leave my father and my friends,” I say. “It makes me feel selfish.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” the interrogator says, ending the line of questions. The entire audience repeats the phrase.

At the end of the ceremony, all but two of us are welcomed as full members of Dauntless. A boy and girl from Erudite both admitted that they would lie if not under the truth serum, and the Candor elected not to accept them as members. They will be factionless.

Phillip gives me a quick hug and says he’ll miss having me as a roommate—apparently we will all get our own apartments now. He’s the only real friend I’ve made here, so I make my way toward the exit instead of talking to people. I feel a hand rest on my shoulder.

“So, a little birdie tells me that you have a crush on me,” Derek says loud enough for people around us to hear. _He’s playing along. He’s lying to help protect me. He’s adorable._

I purposefully tilt my head downward. “I…didn’t want you to find out that way,” I say, “but, yes. I do. And, really, who could blame me?”

“See, Derek, I told you you were attractive,” a girl interrupts.

“You’re my best friend; you have to think I’m attractive,” Derek retorts.

“I’m a Candor first, Dere Bear. I can’t lie,” she says.

“Dere Bear?” I ask. “That’s great.”

“It’s the name she uses to annoy the hell out of me with,” Derek explains. “Stiles, this is my best friend, Laura. Laura, Stiles.”

“We’re going to get along great,” I say.

Laura laughs. “As long as Dere Bear will share you!”

“Laura!” Derek exclaims.

“What?” she asks. He just glares at her. “Oh, right. You haven’t gotten to the part where you tell Stiles you have a crush on him, too—don’t give me that look, you know you do.”

“That’s not the…Laura, can you give us a minute?” Derek asks.

I laugh. “But, I like her.”

“He likes me; we’re going to be torture for you! But, I do need to let you two have this moment. Can’t wait until it’s official. Kisses, Dere Bear!” Laura gives air kisses to the sides of Derek’s cheeks as she saunters off.

“She is awesome,” I say.

“She’s annoying is what she is,” Derek teases.

I poke him in the chest. “Be nice!” He laughs. “So, you have a crush on me, too? How advantageous!”

Derek whispers, “I assumed you figured that out when I kissed you.”

“One, you ignored me for a week after that,” I whisper back. “And, two, I thought we were in the middle of putting on a show for the eavesdroppers.”

“I just don’t want you to forget who made the first move,” he whispers.

I respond in kind, “Oh, don’t worry about that. I won’t be forgetting that any time soon, _Dere Bear_.” I wink before walking off to find my new apartment assignment, leaving Derek sighing in frustration.


End file.
